


A Weekend Away

by Findecutie, MayGlenn



Series: Russ and Finno Verse [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findecutie/pseuds/Findecutie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following their climbing adventure, Fingon and Maedhros escape Tírion and their respective duties for a weekend away- their first significant amount of time together since the week of their betrothal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Together Again

Fingon slowed his horse from a canter as the house came into view. It was likely intended to be more of cottage but... hunting lodge was perhaps the most rustic term that could be used for even the least of Fëanáro's dwellings. He smiled, walking the horse past the gate and dismounting. "I won't need you before tomorrow, go on," he murmured, stroking her neck and giving her a pat as she moves away.

Candles and crystals shone inside the house and provided a warm glow against the evening as he walked to the door, knocking thrice before pushing it open. "Nelyo?"

Maedhros had spent all day preparing his father's summer home for his and Fingon's weekend away. It was the cold season, so the house was sure to be chilly, which meant they would remain safely unmolested. He had spent hours chopping enough wood, a few more hours cleaning the cottage, and the rest of the time he spent decorating and preparing. There was enough food--Fingon's favorite meats, sweets, and breads, and plenty of wine--and there were flowers absoutely everywhere. He had begged Nessa very sweetly, and she had given him them to him in spite of the cold weather. A fire crackled merrily, and it was warm inside: it was like it was already spring again.

Maedhros smiled and opened his arms as Fingon entered. "Findekáno," he said warmly, gathering his cousin to him and kissing him. He remembered, suddenly, that he was still wearing an apron for cleaning, and the dusting rag and a few flower clippings still lay out. "Oh, you are early. Sorry," he said, tidying up these last few things before returning. "Can I get you a drink?"

Fingon leaned into Maedhros' embrace and kissed him wholeheartedly. He imagined he would never get used to this--to having his cousin come to him like so in person and not only in dreams. He smiled, breathing in the fresh air and the aromas of flowers, spice, baking, and a subtle scent that was unique to Maedhros. "Russ," he started, looking around, "what is there to be sorry about? This... this feels like _home_." He circled the room, fingers brushing some of the brightest flowers, including a few more exotic ones that surely took some dealing and pleading for Maedhros to acquire. "These are beautiful." Cupping a flower the size of his face he paused to breathe in its subtle springtime scent before responding to Maedhros’ question.

"Thank you, but no. I think I will just have water this evening," he answered pensively though his lips twitched upward slightly as he finished. This evening, this time, he would there were no wines or spirits between them, nothing to blur the memory of this brief retreat he shared with Russandol.

Maedhros poured himself a small glass of wine, unable to let go of Fingon and leaving his hand resting on his cousin's hip. "Supper will soon be done," he said. "Fresh bread and aged cheese, and baked fowl." He hurried into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of grapes. "If you'd prefer younger wine," he said with a grin. "Shall we sit by the fire?" he returned his arm around Fingon's waist.

"I can never resist your food." Fingon took the bowl and linked his arm around Maedhros' waist in turn, allowing himself to be led to the sofa by the fire. He slumped against Maedhros when they sat, toeing off his boots and curling his legs next to him on the cushion. "It's been too long, beloved." He pressed a kiss to Maedhros' neck before reaching for a grape.

"So it has," Maedhros agreed, shifting so that he could wrap both arms and legs around Fingon, settling him against his chest. "How have you been spending your time?" he asked, running his nails gently up and down Fingon's arm. "How is your father, and your mother?"

Fingon glanced at Maedhros through the corner of his eye. "They are well, as you well know. Perfectly blissful, to be honest. And your side of the family?"

"Well," Maedhros answered. "The Ambarussa have started learning to read, and are coming along well. Macalaurë is composing a new symphony. Atar and amil are keeping busy and happy." He grinned and kissed Fingon's temple. "And I'm surprised you do not know more of Turko's whereabouts than I: I am jealous of how much time he manages to spend in your home."

"Ugh! Don't ask." Fingon immediately shook his head to rid it of the mental images unintentionally brought forth. "Unless you'd like a demonstration? I keep stumbling across them. I love my sister and cousin dearly, but I swear to you the next time I stumble across them in a compromising situation I may not restrain myself." He shook his head and hooked a leg over Maedhros thighs, swinging around to face his cousin. Fingon leaned over his cousin's lap and braced himself with a hand against the back of the sofa, next to Maedhros' head. "They were in my _suite_ Russ, my _rooms_. And on more than one occasion! My other siblings are respectful enough to stay out of them, so apparently they have decided that's the perfect area for trysts." He shuddered. "I warn you, there are things an older brother is _never_ meant to see."

Maedhros laughed, but in agreement, not amusement. "Oh, believe me, I understand," he said, pressing their brows together and shaking his head slightly in bemusement. "My rooms are hardly sacred ground, either, unfortunately." He could not count the number of times he found Celegorm with various different girls in variations of kissing sessions all over their home. "Which is why I'm glad we're here." Then a shy twinkle caught in his eye. "You might even give me a demonstration? If it would not evoke unwanted memories."

Fingon's breath hitched, and he met Maedhros' gaze squarely, sliding his legs outward and leaning down to press himself fully against Maedhros. This was certainly unexpected... but not in the least undesired. Then again, perhaps they could get back to where they were that day in the woods when Celegorm and Aredhel had been the ones interrupting them. He leaned in to kiss his cousin softly. "You should be careful what you ask for, my betrothed," he whispered in his ear. As Maedhros gasped and reached out to him he ducked back and pushed himself off Maedhros' lap, edging his legs apart as he slid down to kneel between them.

"Though you leave me in quite a predicament." He leaned forward, nuzzling at the tie of Maedhros breeches and pressing down on his hips as they jerked in reaction. "They've done so many things." He kissed at his upper thigh through the cloth and glanced up and Maedhros. "Practically traumatized my poor innocent eyes." He turned to place a line of open mouthed kisses against the interior of his cousin's other thigh. Just before reaching the top of his inseam Fingon stopped, leaning forward to let his breath brush against the cords holding the breeches fast and gazing up through half-lidded eyes. "What would you have me show you, my love? What will you have me do?"

"Uhh," Maedhros blanched with alarm. That his younger brother and even younger cousin were up to such activities did not actually cross his mind in this moment. He was focused on Fingon, there, between his legs, unlacing his breeches, and for a few dangerous seconds he could neither think nor act, helpless with desire. Then, "Ahh, no, wait, stop," he said, sitting up and pulling Fingon bodily to meet him. "I would rather kiss you," he blurted out, a flimsy excuse, but he pressed his lips to Fingon's, pressed Fingon back to the couch, to cover up his own reservations.

Taking a deep breath, Fingon closed his eyes for a moment, hiding his hurt at being so blatantly and urgently pushed away. He silently promised himself that they would get back to that moment, and the next time they did Maedhros would not be so appalled. "Liar," he whispered, mostly masking the wounded knot in his voice as he brushed his lips against Maedhros. He held himself off Maedhros' lap, obeying the unspoken request for distance. He touched their foreheads together and sighed.

"I adore you, Russandol. I love you." He tucked a strand of hair behind Maedhros' ear. "You are my _betrothed_. Is the idea of physical pleasure with me truly so problematic?" Fingon's eyes fluttered shut again. "I want this, Russ. Desperately. And the last time we were together I was sure you did as well. But I shall, as always, adhere to your wishes." He opened his eyes and looked at Maedhros as he awaited his reply.

Maedhros winced, snatched at Fingon's hands. "I--sorry. I'm sorry, Findekáno, I--" he kissed Fingon's hands, settling back slightly with a sigh. "You must know I love you--more than I love myself. I--" his mind raced: he was being cowardly, or too traditional, or wrong somehow. Anything that upset Fingon was absolutely wrong. "I cannot allow you to--" And then he had an idea. Yes, this was acceptable. Fingon debasing himself by such an act was one thing, was wildly inappropriate, was wrong. But—

Never taking his eyes from Fingon's blue ones, Maedhros slid off the sofa, to the floor, where he knelt, resting his hands lightly on Fingon's knees. "Such an act would be more worship than I deserve. But if you would allow me?" Hands trembling, he reached for the ties on Fingon's trousers.

Releasing a breath slowly, Fingon laid his hands over Maedhros', leaning down to meet his willing mouth before relaxing into a more comfortable position."Russ- I- we don't have to do this; I don't mean to push you into something you do not want- but..." He jerked forward as Maedhros' fingers brushed against his trousers. "I can imagine nothing more desirable to me than being given the chance to pleasure you. But if you want this first-" He swallowed roughly. "You know I could never deny you anything."

Fingon squeezed Maedhros' wrists briefly before moving his hands back to grip the edge of the sofa. He looked away, blushing slightly. "Just don't be to quick to judge me on this, love. You know I've never been with--I've never _wanted_ to be with--"

"Nor I," Maedhros promised, leaning forward with a wide smile and hungry eyes. "Nor I, not ever, only you." He felt better already, easier now. His hands were not shaking quite so much as he palmed the front of Fingon's trousers without shame, sucking down a quick kiss before he freed Fingon's member and closed his fingers around it. Their breathing hitched together. "I want this. I want your innocence, and in exchange I would give you mine. I love you, Findekáno. I love you." With his other arm he pulled Fingon closer, to the edge of the couch, and surged forward to savage his cousin's throat while he pumped his hand between them.

One hand twisted in Maedhros’ hair and yanked as the older Elda attacked Fingon’s throat. Fingon’s other hand grasped the cushion of the sofa in a white knuckled grip as he clenched his jaw and desperately tried to pull himself back from the edge. He closed his eyes to the sight of his cousin _worshiping_ him, but they quickly flew open as the action did nothing but arouse his imagination further. He stared up at the wood of the ceiling, trying to focus on barely visible stripes in the grain. Absently he realized he was tugging on Maedhros’ locks repeatedly as his lover moved up and down his neck. “Russss!” he hissed as Maedhros worried the flesh above his jugular.

Maedhros licked his way up Fingon's throat to capture his lips in a frenzied kiss, hand slowly sliding up and down the flesh between them. "Mm, you taste so wonderful," he teased, pressing Fingon back against the sofa, pinning him, trapping him. "Does this please you, Findekáno? Half as much as you please me?" he whispered.

"Russ, yes, yes!" Fingon tightened his jaw and moaned lowly. He could no longer shift away slightly or focus on an area that Maedhros wasn't touching; he could feel his larger cousin all around him, over him. Fingon's hands had migrated to Maedhros' shirt and were twisting the material so desperately he was surprised the fabric had not yet ripped. "I can't--I can't, I can't, I cant. Agh!" He rapped Maedhros' shoulder sharply. "If you don't stop--"

Maedhros kissed Fingon again, sucking on his lips until they turned bright pink. He squeezed Fingon almost too-tight for a moment, to keep him from spending immediately, but seeing his cousin coming undone before him so wantonly, so desperately, so sweetly--Maedhros was overwhelmed with a heady feeling of perhaps power, but primarily love. That he could please his Fingon so totally, and that Fingon was showing it so obviously, made him dizzy with lust. "I want to taste you," he promised, so that made Fingon's skin spring up with goosepimples, and he bowed his head to take Fingon's member into his mouth.

Fingon's entire body went taunt in shock and sensation and he arched forward as far as Maedhros' grip, gentle but confining as steel, would allow. He teetered on the edge for a moment, then clenched his fist hard enough to draw blood and opened his eyes trying to fight it, to delay a little longer. "Russandol." The name was a gasp, a plea, a prayer. When he glanced down his eyes met Maedhros' and were caught there, watching his cousin watch him as heat surged and he was lost to the overwhelming sensation of being _inside_ his lover. His hips surged forward against Maedhros' grip and his neck arched back, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

Maedhros had no experience and little idea how this was meant to go, but though he snatched helplessly at his more tactical consciousness, soon this, too, was slipping away, and he was moving, responding, his mouth working in tandem with his hands to bring Fingon to pleasure. He could not think: he could only feel. He could taste, and was struck by the pleasantness of it. He could feel Fingon's hands in his hair, tugging lightly, impatiently, desperately. And he could hear: the soft noises of need and pleasure Fingon made were enough to drive him to ruin. Finally he could stand it no longer, and replaced mouth with hands and surged forward to drink down Fingon's lips again. "I want to steal the breath from your cry when you spend," he growled, biting gently along Fingon's jaw. "Come for me, Finno."

Fingon could not but obey Maedhros' voice as it pierced through the haze of pleasure. He latched onto Maedhros, arching into him as his body spasmed and his vision whited out. "Russ!"

When his vision returned a few moments went by punctuated only by his harsh breathing and the thundering of his heart, which he was sure was loud enough Maedhros could hear it. As soon as he was able he caught Maedhros' eyes, and his embarrassment at his own lack of control disappeared with the pleasure, triumph, and need his saw there. "Please," he whispered, raising a hand brushing it across Maedhros' cheek before trailing it down, over his well built form (Maitimo indeed!), to rest on the edge of his trousers. "Please Russ, let me touch you?"

He was not certain how it happened, perhaps it was the flood of love washing over him from his cousin as though Fingon was one of the Sacred Trees, but Maedhros whited out, too, nearly losing consciousness as Fingon's pleasure erupted. When he returned to himself, it was to Fingon's eyes on him, and he was licking the taste of Fingon off his hand. He startled, flushing, somehow embarrassed to be caught like this, and he stammered. "Findekáno--" he began, before his body, his own thrumming need, answered for him, "yes. Please."

Fingon guided Maedhros onto the couch, kicking his trousers the rest of the way off. He ignored his body's painful twitches as it made an earnest attempt at showing interest upon seeing Maedhros' licking his hand absentmindedly. Smiling at the flush burning across Maedhros' cheeks he kissed each one before making his way down his body. He finished removing his cousin's shirt, nipping at each piece of skin as it was revealed, and sank back to his knees, where he had been several minutes before. He dragged his palms up Maedhros' thighs and considered him for a moment, determined to make Maedhros enjoy his next actions as much as he would.

"I love you. Have I mentioned that today?" He leaned up to brush a kiss across Maedhros' lips. Carefully, reverently, he unlaced his breeches, scooting back as he worked them all of the way off his body, and then he stared for a moment, trying to commit this image to memory. Maedhros' looked like a perfect image of desire, physicality, strength, and control as he lounged on the sofa. Like the most perfect piece of art in Valinor, designed to ensnare the senses and captivate its audience.

Maedhros watched Fingon remove the rest of his clothes with obvious delight, but his breath caught (embarrassingly) as he let Fingon disrobe him, hands twitching at his sides as he strove not to move--afraid that if he moved towards Fingon he might accidentally run away. "Findekáno, you have said little else," he smiled, his breath coming in ragged gasps (almost as if he was afraid) as his beautiful cousin knelt over him. He was so hard (he noticed almost as if it were a part unattached to him, though he knew it intimately, he had brought himself to this in private, whispering Fingon's name, for longer than he dared admit) the member lay flat and red against his belly, begging where he could not.

"Perhaps, but it is true enough to say more than once." He threw Maedhros a smile before ducking down, trailing fingers over one foot before raising it and brushing his lips over the top. "You are beautiful, cousin," Fingon murmured reverently. He treated the other foot to the same- "a true work of art"- before moving to his ankles, and up his legs. "Perhaps I understand Fëanáro's belief in careful study now," he murmured. "I could work at learning your body for ages without losing interest or enthusiasm." He found himself back at Maedhros' thighs, this time without a cloth barrier, and without being stopped and hauled up. He met Maedhros' gaze, noting the flush that now made its way down his body, his trembling fingers, and his aching need. He ran a reverent hand over him for a minute before leaning over him and gently moving his hands to his hair and shoulder.

"Touching, touching is a good thing, okay?" Because Maedhros was ever polite, and Fingon wished to feel his lover come undone in every way he could. After receiving a gentle tug in answer he licked over quivering flesh playfully, then leaned down to swallow him fully.

Maedhros squirmed to be so scruitinized. "You are tickling and teasing me--" he said, or was about to say, before Fingon's mouth was on him, and his hips bucked entirely on their own, and he cried out, hands tangling in Fingon's silky black hair. "Finn--Finno," he gasped, and after a few dangerous seconds, forced himself to let go, to not pull quite so hard, to be gentle. "Please, please," he begged, his resolve fraying at the edges.

Fingon hummed in question, glancing up and Maedhros until he caught his gaze. He smirked as well has he could in the given situation, quickly forced to place his hands on Maedhros' hips with as much force as he could generate, to contain his unconscious thrusts. He pulled back for a moment, swallowing and running his tongue over his lips, luxuriating in the feel of Maedhros' almost desperate (or at least he could imagine it that way) grip on his hair. "On second thought-" Maedhros watched him questioningly, "let's try something a little different? Feel free to move as much as you want." He slid forward, as bonelessly as he could, and hovered for a moment before descending, taking Maedhros into himself. He wrapped his hands around strong hips again, though this time with the intention of guiding and soothing rather than restraining.

"Findekáno!" Maedhros cried, his need entirely taking him over for a few desperate thrusts before he forced himself to slow. Fingon was warm and wet and pliant and so loving, and his eyes never dropped from where they locked onto his own. And it was in that moment, where Fingon gave himself wholly to him, became his to love, to hold, to seek pleasure from, so innocently and sacrificially, that Maedhros spilled--entirely without warning, as if he had long been denying himself release (and perhaps he had). His body locked down on itself, going rigid, blinded by bliss and light, and he spent so hard it nearly hurt, with his beloved cousin's name on his lips.

Fingon's eyes widened as he felt Maedhros tumble over the edge without warning. He pulled back slightly to let Maedhros spill his last into Fingon's mouth rather than his throat and moaned around Maedhros at his first full taste of his lover. He watched Maedhros, rigid and blinded with passion, even in this moment calling out to him, and he could not imagine a more beautiful sight. Privately he thought he would even choose this moment, this image, even over watching the mingling of the light of the Trees. Fingon ran his hands soothingly up and down Maedhros' flanks, finally pulling off him as he began to twitch with oversensitivity. He sighed happily, resting his head on Maedhros' thigh and watching him, waiting for him to come down from his high.

Maedhros returned to himself with Fingon's weight on him, and he shuddered, his movements jerky as he tried to draw Fingon to him. "I--Finno, I--" his brain was not working yet, he was so overcome with bliss, so he gave up, panting instead. His hands were on Fingon, that was enough for now. "Are you all right?" he finally managed.

Fingon laughed in happiness and adoration. Taking pity on Maedhros' tired movements he moved to sit on his cousin, slumping against him and leaning his head to rest on his shoulder. "I've never felt better. I've dreamt this so many times, and being with you... thank you for giving me this precious gift. I lack the words to express my appreciation." He smiled against Maedhros' skin. "And you? Are you well, my Russandol?" A small thrill shot through him, as it did every time, being able to refer to Maedhros as his.

"Me? Am I all right?" Maedhros parroted. "Findekáno Nolofinwëan, I am undone! I will never be all right again unless you are in my arms," he said it with an air of jest, but he was deadly serious, and he squeezed Fingon tightly and kissed his temple. "I love you, Finno. I have ever loved you, and now--now--" Now he could not even think why he ever thought to wait, why it mattered that Fingon was not yet of age-- But he stopped this line of thought. "I know I said before that I did not want to monopolize your affections. Now I cannot imagine what I would not do to retain them. You are my light, Findekáno. You are the one light I will ever need to see by." And he pressed their lips together, their tastes mingling on their tongues.

Fingon squeezed his arms around Maedhros. He would be content never to leave. He opened his mouth to respond, only to be beaten by a loud gurgling from his stomach as he caught a whiff of something. A moment later he realized that all was not right in the world as Maedhros' dinners never smelled like… blackened, burning food. Maedhros stiffened in his arms.

"Oh, shit!" he cried, with a sudden strength (perhaps giving away the game that he hadn't really been trying to escape Fingon's advances before) he sat up, reversed their positions so that Fingon lay on the couch, and vaulted over the back to run to the kitchen. He swore colorfully as he opened the oven door and removed the quite blackened cakes. He immediately took them outside, realizing too late that he had forgotten to get dressed again, and swore some more. He was usually quite good at keeping track of time--another way in which Fingon was the exception to his every rule. He smiled ashamedly as he returned wearing only oven mitts to see Fingon standing at the door looking worried. "Well, we won't be having cakes for breakfast," he said sheepishly. Sorry."

Fingon laughed at Maedhros' genuine worry--as though he might value perfect breakfast cakes over what they had just shared. "Sorry Nelyo," he said, gesturing apologetically as he tried to quell his laughter. "I will miss your cakes--which are always wonderful--but not to the extent where I regret what we just shared. Or that I have the ability to make you lose track of your surroundings." He walked across the room to Maedhros, still comfortably nude, and slid his arms back around Maedhros and rose on his toes to kiss his forehead. His stomach growled again, awake and demanding food now that it had been reminded of the time. "By the way, what do we have planned for dinner?" 


	2. Chapter 2

Previously:

_Fingon squeezed his arms around Maedhros. He would be content never to leave. He opened his mouth to respond, only to be beaten by a loud gurgling from his stomach as he caught a whiff of something. A moment later he realized that all was not right in the world as Maedhros' dinners never smelled like… blackened, burning food. Maedhros stiffened in his arms._

_"Oh, shit!" he cried, with a sudden strength (perhaps giving away the game that he hadn't really been trying to escape Fingon's advances before) he sat up, reversed their positions so that Fingon lay on the couch, and vaulted over the back to run to the kitchen. He swore colorfully as he opened the overn door and removed the quite blackened cakes. He immediately took them outside, realizing too late that he had forgotten to get dressed again, and swore some more. He was usually quite good at keeping track of time--another way in which Fingon was the exception to his every rule. He smiled ashamedly as he returned wearing only oven mitts to see Fingon standing at the door looking worried. "Well, we won't be having cakes for breakfast," he said sheepishly. Sorry."_

_Fingon laughed at Maedhros' genuine worry--as though he might value perfect breakfast cakes over what they had just shared. "Sorry Nelyo," he said, gesturing apologetically as he tried to quell his laughter. "I will miss your cakes--which are always wonderful--but not to the extent where I regret what we just shared. Or that I have the ability to make you lose track of your surroundings." He walked across the room to Maedhros, still comfortably nude, and slid his arms back around Maedhros and rose on his toes to kiss his forehead. His stomach growled again, awake and demanding food now that it had been reminded of the time. "By the way, what do we have planned for dinner?"_

* * *

 

Maedhros bit the inside of his lip, which resulted in a wry smile. He pulled Fingon against him and looked about the kitchen, nodding at the dishes. "A green salad with fruit and nuts. Roast boar, with new potatoes, carrots and onions (in big pieces, so you can pick around them). I managed not to burn the bread, which I baked this morning. We could save the seed cakes for breakfast or eat them as dessert. Though I dare say I could get creative with the fruit." At this close proximity he could feel Fingon's stomach growling, and laughed. A new plan was forming in his head (he was also not, usually, very spur-the-moment, preferring carefully planning, but, again: Fingon). "Come. Fetch a few blankets from the bedroom, and I will set up our dinner to be eaten in here." He pressed their noses together and, "I do not think I could stand to have my hands off you for long, nor see you dressed just yet, so we will eat in here where it is warmer, if that is amenable to you?"

Fingon, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, immediately went to do as Maedhros had bid him. He could not, however, prevent himself from glancing back at his cousin, glowing in the bright candlelight so that his skin looked like warm gold and his hair like tresses of fire. He stopped briefly in the bathroom to wipe himself clean of sweat, then grabbed both blankets and pillows to lay out near the fire. His body was already responding imaginings of possibilities the night held, and he quickly turned his mind to other things, carefully arranging the blankets and then adding more wood to the fire, moving the logs to help them burn and to allow more heat to move across the room.

"I can take care of that," Maedhros said, but in truth he was busy arranging a low table beside the wood stove, draping a cloth over it, and returning with candelabra and flower arrangement from the dining table where he had first planned for them to eat. "There," he finally said, "not so bad," and turned and pulled a thick blanket around Fingon before sitting him nearest to the fire. He pulled another blanket over his shoulders, though it did little good until he transferred the food to the low table and he could wrap it around himself properly. He was very happy, almost giddy with it. He poured cups of cold water and warm wine for each of them, and as he finally sat, he leaned forward to kiss Fingon. But, "Oh!" he said suddenly, and leapt up again, returning with napkins and cutlery. "There. All right? May I serve you?"

"You spoil me," Fingon murmured. "You may, if you wish, but you've already cooked--oughtn't I to be serving you?" Nonetheless he took what Maedhros offered gladly, waiting for Maedhros to prepare his own plate before he began to eat.

"Eat up before it gets cold," Maedhros encouraged, but he knew Fingon would not eat until he began, so he worked quickly, and took a bite, signaling to begin before he cut and buttered the bread. Once all was arranged to his satisfaction, he put his arm around Fingon while they ate, reducing himself to eating left-handed but not minding. "If the meat needs more gravy I can get you some. And I will eat your onions if you won't," he teased, spearing one off Fingon's plate. "Though you might want to eat a few to protect yourself, if you wish me to kiss you again this night." He winked.

Fingon leaned into the arm wrapped around him and dug into the meal. He was hungrier than he had thought, and the food disappeared from his plate quickly. He eyed the onions momentarily, then carefully moved them away from his meat. "I'm certain there will be more kissing tonight. Though if you want me kissing your mouth I'd recommend cleansing it with wine or chewing some rosemary and sage for a while---and I'm sure you already have them in the kitchen." He shuddered lightly. "Why are you trying to force those things into me Russ?"

Maedhros laughed. "Well they are nutritious, or so Yavanna tells me. Builds healthy immunity to the admittedly few illnesses we can experience." He popped another onion into his mouth along with a bit of meat. "I will endeavor to make myself palatable to you again after supper."

"That would be greatly appreciated. And Yavanna says there are nutritious aspects to everything. If you want to feed me things out of the ground, perhaps bleeding roots next time? Not that I'd dare order you about in the kitchen--this truly is wonderful." He took another large bite, trying to sop up the last of the gravy. "On another note, dare I ask you what you have planned for us for the weekend? Though in all honesty even if it's remaining unclothed in front of the fire with you for the entire time I wouldn't be able to complain."

"Well, hopefully a lot of that," Maedhros said, watching Fingon eat with pleasure. "But we can go riding if it warms up, and walk the hills nearby. Though I confess I gave thought mainly to food and firewood and flowers."

"Everything is truly beautiful…this is perfect. A wonderful retreat, and a blissful memory to carry with us after." Fingon tucked himself deeper into Maedhros, favoring the warmth of his body over that of the blanket. "Riding with you is always a joy. And perhaps at some point you can help me with my hair?"

"Mm, you are trying to seduce me again," Maedhros complained. "And succeeding. You know I would love nothing better." He did not yet mention the large bath he had brought to the house for just this purpose, but kissed the top of Fingon's head, abandoning what was left of his meal to wrap both arms around him. He rinsed his mouth with wine and tilted Fingon's head back to kiss his lips. "How is that. Too oniony?" If he was lucky, he might have to test this a few more times.

Fingon shook his head. "Terrible…downright awful. Perhaps you had best try again?" He nudged Maedhros playfully.

Maedhros laughed, taking another drink of wine and just holding Fingon for a while. He rested his head back against the cupboard and sighed. "This is--" no words could describe what this was: "wonderful," he decided sufficed. "I am with you, alone, and there is no work to be done but what we want to do, and it is _quiet_. He nuzzled his face into Fingon's hair. "And I am with you. I love you."

"I love you," Fingon whispered back. "Hmm, what shall we do next, or are we just going to stay like this?--not that I would complain if we were to, mind." He threaded his fingers through the fingers of Maedhros' left hand, squeezing gently and enjoying the perfect quiet of the moment, with no one in the area but them, no sound but the soft crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of their heartbeats.

"Well, I want you to eat your fill first, and I have my own plate to finish. We could stargaze on the roof with a hot drink, if you like? We should probably wait for dessert, but I made chocolate mousse. And there is a bath..." he trailed off, wondering if it was too forward (or too creepy) to suggest they bathe together (even though they were currently naked in each other's company). "Ah, I know the last time we bathed together you were very small and it had a very different--"

"As I said before, you spoil me," Fingon returned with a grin. "Perhaps we can grab a blanket and stargaze for a time, then a bath, dessert…and perhaps another bath?" Fire lit his cheeks as he spoke, but with Maedhros so inclined to comfort, relaxation, and debauchery he could hardly resist. "And we may not have 'bathed together' per say, but I remember swimming with you, alit with fallen stars, no so long ago. It has since been one of my fondest memories." Maedhros squeezed his hand at that, and he returned the grip firmly, stroking the side of his hand with his thumb.

Maedhros bit his lip before leaning down to bite Fingon's instead, deepening the playful nibble into a kiss. "Mine, too." He said after, and smiled. "I apologize for my awkwardness. I fear to be too forward, too improper, when I should know you better than that. If you finish your plate, and I finish mine, we will do exactly as you say." He lifted Fingon so he was sitting more upright and freed his arm. "I do not know if you have a saturation limit for chocolate, but we could have hot cocoa on the roof if you like. Though I might insist we get dressed again."

"Please don't apologize to me, Nelyo. Surely there can be no apologies necessary between us." He kissed Maedhros. "And you are hardly awkward or improper. Forward, perhaps, but is that not right, for now?" He ducked his head with a smile. "And a saturation limit for chocolate? In the words of my beloved cousins Ambarussa, 'how can you suggest such a terrifying, outrageous thing'?" He stepped back, taking up his plate again. "I suppose I can throw on trousers, if you insist. The dark hours must be beautiful out here, so far from the cities." He took a bite, pleased with their evening agenda but determined not to rush through the last of Maedhros' incredible meal.

Maedhros tucked into finishing as well, and laughed at Fingon. "Yes, it is beautiful, but also cold. We will need to get dressed fully." Now he blushed again, but continued stalwartly: "But I will enjoy undressing you again very much," he said, before hiding his blush in wine, already wishing he hadn't quite gone there.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I suppose…if you insist." Fingon set his plate down and wandered through the living room locating articles of clothing--both his and Maedhros'--and laying them across the back of the sofa before beginning to dress. He ducked back into the kitchen in time to help dry plates and cutlery. "Shall we?" He bounced lightly on his feet, the food settling in his stomach and the bit of movement providing him with a second wind

"Yes, half a moment," said Maedhros over the stove, stirring the chocolate and milk. "Can you grab the blankets? We will go out the back: there is a place to climb to the roof from there." He poured out the hot cocoa into mugs with ingenious lids his father had constructed. He led the way outside, jerking his head at the ladder (really, it was iron filigree against the wall, but he and his brothers had long ago discovered it was an effective ladder to reach the roof). "Here we are. If you get up first I will hand the chocolate and blankets up to you." 

Fingon obediently handed Maedhros the blankets and nimbly ascended the ladder. As he had hoped, the view from the roof was incredible. He spread out their blankets that Maedhros handed back up to him, tucking his cold feet in them--Maedhros had been correct, it was quite cold out. After a moment Maedhros joined him with hot cups, steam rising from them invitingly. "They smell delicious!"

"As they should," Maedhros said: "Hold mine?" he asked, handing both cups to Fingon as he arranged himself directly behind Fingon, wrapping his legs around him and then pulling the blankets up around them before taking his mug back. "There we are. Comfortable?" He rested his head on top of Fingon's and looked out at the stars. "Mm, the chocolate does not smell as wonderful as you, I think," he teased, breathing in the scent of his hair.

Fingon snorted. "I need a shower Russ, and I'm well aware of that fact." He sighed and settled back against Maedhros. "This is perfect. The entire evening has been perfect, but this is truly beautiful." They were silent a few minutes, gazing at the sky and sipping their drinks. "Tell me, which of Varda's jewels most closely resemble Curvos' latest project? Or Uncle's?"

Maedhros hummed thoughtfully, drawing his eyes from Fingon's hands where he grasped his mug, up to the sky. He chuckled. "Well, I always liked this constellation here--the sword--" he said, pointing. You remember when I taught you that one when you were younger, don't you?" Fingon nodded. "Well, the one at the crossguard, it is so large and blue, I always liked it. And _then_ ," he went on, smiling in delight, "then father built a large looking-glass to show us the stars--remind me to show you sometime--anyway, when seen closer, I learned that it is not one, but in fact two stars, very close together; and they are brighter together." He hugged Fingon closely. "And I think I liked that star, those stars, even more after I learned that."

"I will remember it now; it can be a sign of good fortune for both of us." Fingon drained the last of his mug and set it down. He tilted his head back, resting it on Maedhros' shoulder as he watched the stars. "I've always loved those stars; many of the Teleri think they look like a fisherman at work, but I am sure they show a craftsman at work in the forge. A sign of our people and of your close family most of all, I would think." A slight breeze picked up and he curled his feet against Maedhros', listening to the music of wind through the trees.

Maedhros took up the song that the wind began. Fingon listened at first, then his voice rose in counterpoint to his cousin's, providing a harmony to the song. At that moment the wind itself seemed to bend to their song, providing a backdrop to their voices, rising and falling in time with the song. The stars blazed, the leaves trembled, and the forest sang. Fingon stared upward in amazement, afraid to move, to breathe, yet more eager to keep the song from breaking, the moment from ending. He pressed himself closely to Maedhros and lost himself in the ebb and flow of the music.

They sang for hours like that, until Maedhros' voice began to give and Fingon's eyes drooped. He kissed Fingon's hair finally and nudged him. "Shall we go in? We can eat dessert while we get a bath ready. Then I will braid your hair."

"Mmm. 'm almost too comfortable to move, Russ," Fingon yawned, arching his back until it popped, and stretching. "'s go then. Will you wake me up a bit with sugar?" They stood, and Fingon shivered, moving his feet quickly as he grabbed their blankets and made his way to the edge. "Never mind! I'm awake. It's freezing!" He threw himself down quickly and made his wake back into the warmly lit and comfortably warm house.

Maedhros followed quickly behind, smiling, and once they were inside he bundled Fingon up in the blankets, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed his nose. "Are you warm now?"

"Quite." Fingon folded the blankets and put them away. "You said you'll work on dessert first? Shall I start filling the bath?"

"I will," Maedhros said. "But I don't want you parted from me for a second, so--" taking Fingon around the waist, they made a brief detour by the washroom and Maedhros turned a tap to fill the tub before they turned to the kitchen. He spooned mousse into small dishes and handed one to Fingon. "I have learned my lesson and don't want to leave anything unattended when I might be distracted," he winked, and led the way back to the washroom and the filling tub.

Fingon laughed, linking his arm around Maedhros' waist and allowing his cousin to lead him throughout the house. As they finished walking back to check the water he tried a taste of the mousse, closing his eyes briefly and savoring his first bite--rich, dark, perfectly smooth, and immediately melting in his mouth. When he opened his eyes Maedhros was watching him. He grinned. "This is _incredible_ Russ. Dinner was amazing, as well, but you've really outdone yourself with this!" He noticed his cousin had not started his dessert, and he took a larger spoonful pausing before eating it. "Here, taste." He took the bite, set the spoon down in his bowl, and leaned over to kiss Maedhros.

Maedhros dipped his head to taste Fingon's lips, sweeter than any chocolate. "Mm, delicious," he said, setting his bowl aside entirely and kissing Fingon more deeply. When he surfaced, he was untying the laces on Fingon's shirt, and he started. "Oh. I--" and he might have been about to apologize, but, "well, we are going to get you clean, aren't we?" he said sheepishly.

Laughter echoed off the walls of the room. "Yes, that was the idea. Though I think I had recommended two baths." Fingon spoke matter-of-factly and tried to force the light blush from his face through sheer willpower. "A bath, finish the last of your wonderful dessert, perhaps a more hygiene focused soak--as I will not be able to take my eyes off you right now to worry about my skin let alone my hair or yours, and then we can talk by the fire or turn in for the evening." He raised his hands to the top of Maedhros' shirt, looking to his cousin for permission before beginning to open the laces on it.

Maedhros bit his lip, but did not stop Fingon as his cousin lifted his shirt over his head for the second time this evening. A quick tug and Fingon was dressed to match. Maedhros turned enough to take a bite of chocolate and kissed Fingon again, hungrier now, and they slid to the floor.

Fingon held Maedhros to him--or more accurately, held himself to Maedhros. He could feel their hearts racing in perfect unison, and watched a bead of sweat trickle down Maedhros' neck in the heat of the room. He itched to trace its path with his tongue. "Russ," he murmured, pausing to nip at Maedhros' ear. "How much longer 'till the bath's ready?" He glanced at the side of the tub. "It's huge!"

"Ahh--" Maedhros panted, turned to the tub. He stood to his knees to peer into the tub. "Just about done," he said, turning the tap to turn off the steaming water. He kissed Fingon quickly and stood, scooping salts and perfumes into the water until it took on a  scent of freshrosemary. "Your bath awaits, my prince, my love," he said, offering a hand to pull Fingon up.

Fingon allowed Maedhros to pull him up, shaking his head and rising onto his toes to brush a kiss across Maedhros' brow. "No, _my_ prince," he corrected. One side of his mouth twisted up. "And my love, always. Though that goes without saying." He pulled back to begin unfastening his trousers. "Shall we? That smells divine--I almost hate to get in with a day's worth of sweat and dust on me." He glanced at Maedhros and dunked a small cloth in the tub so that he could rub down with it before sliding in.

Maedhros could not help but lick his lips as Fingon disrobed. "Oh, yes," he said, and then, shaking himself, "I mean, yes, get in. I will--" without further ado he shucked off his trousers and plucked up the cups of mousse. "The bath is hot, so we must eat quickly before our dessert melts or gets...unappetizing." He waited until Fingon slid into the bath, hissing at the heat, before stepping in after him.

Fingon waited a moment until he was used to the temperature and could settle comfortably before taking one of the cups. "Well, I suppose it would rude to let your hard work go to waste." Though the delight with which he dug into the mousse belied his tone. He sighed and relaxed against the wall of the bath, the water and salts seeping into his aching muscles. As he finished the food, more quickly than Maedhros who had started eating after him, he reached out to poke Maedhros with a foot, tapping him gently until Maedhros looked up at him with an arched brow. Fingon shrugged and responded by sliding his foot up Maedhros leg, curious as to how high his cousin would let him get.

Maedhros started, nearly dropping his bowl into the tub, and his cheeks flushed again. "Findekáno!" he hissed, though he was grinning at Fingon through the steam. "At least allow me to finish my food. And set that dish down before you drop it in the tub or outside and break it!"

Fingon raised an eyebrow. " _I_ _’m_ not in danger of dropping my food, Nelyo. But, since my beloved Russandol insists." He paused and slid partway out of the tub, placing the cup and spoon a safe distance away on the floor and slipping back into the water with a delightful sigh. He dunked under completely for a moment, then resurfaced near his cousin, grinning up at Maedhros from under wet lashes. "The last time we were like this you wore a crown of fallen stars Russ," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Maedhros cheek before gliding away from him. "You do realize what you've done, right? Because now I really have nothing to occupy my hands with."

"I, ah..." Maedhros chuckled, taking a large spoonful of chocolate and stuffing it in Fingon's mouth, laughing at Fingon's surprise. It was enough of a distraction, though, and before he swallowed entirely, Maedhros wrapped an arm around his cousin, pulling him close into a kiss. As the kiss deepened he set his bowl to rest on the shelf outside the bath. "You are seducing me again," he grinned, more than the bath making him warm.

"Me?! Seducing you?" Fingon laughed and pointed at Maedhros. "Not this time, Russ. This is entirely on you." Fingon planted himself in Maedhros lap with a small wave of water, leaning forward to kiss him again. He buried one hand in Maedhros' hair and wrapped the other around his neck for lack of anything to easily grab hold of. "Love you," he whispered against Maedhros' ear. "Love this."

A moan escaped Maedhros as he wrapped both arms around his cousin. "Finno, I love you, too," he said, their bodies sliding together in the hot water, lust or heat or both making him dizzy. "I want us always to be together," he whispered into Fingon's hair, and pulled Fingon against his chest.

"I, as well." Fingon hesitated for a moment, then rose on his knees slightly, reaching for the shelf behind them and grabbing soap and a soft sponge. "May I?" he asked as he sank back into the water, delighted to have found an excuse to linger over Maedhros' body for a time, and to draw out this experience.

Maedhros nodded benevolently, settling his arms on the side of the tub. "You may. And then I will return the favor. And then we will see about your hair." Leaving his arms where they were, Maedhros leaned forward to kiss Fingon's forehead.

Fingon smiled sweetly, gently guiding Maedhros to turn sideways and sliding behind him on the bench to begin with his hair. He poured water over it, then worked in shampoo, digging his fingers into his lover's scalp and moving them in small circles. Fingon smiled widely at Maedhros' pleased sigh, working the suds through the length of his hair before guiding Maedhros back to dunk his head.

Maedhros' eyes slid closed as he gave in to his cousin's fingers. Taut muscles and straight back relaxed, and he leaned. "Mm, Finno, don't stop," he whispered, as Fingon's hands traveled down to his neck and shoulders. He wanted ever so much to grasp those hands, to follow them with his own, but he stayed, forcing himself to let Fingon lead this, to let Fingon do with him as he would.

Fingon leaned over to brush his lips over Maedhros' shoulders reverently--first the right, and then the left. "I won't." He gathered Maedhros' hair, twisting the majority of the water out of it, and found one of his own hair ties on the floor near the foot of the tub. Using the strip he pinned the length up, exposing more of his cousin's back. Fingon carefully poured soap into his hand, rubbing his hands together before he began working over Maedhros' neck and shoulders again, digging into the tightest areas and relishing the sounds of approval that it generated. He peppered a line of kisses down Maedhros' back from neck to water level before moving on to his arms, and massaging each hand. Finally, he slid around and reseated himself facing Maedhros to work on his front.

Maedhros was now pliant under his cousin's touch, every part of him relaxed (except for one part that wasn't), and he opened his eyes in some surprise as Fingon was suddenly in his lap again. He smiled wryly. "Might I return the favor to you now?" he hummed, almost sing-songy, his head floating. "Or are you not quite done with me yet?"

Fingon hummed. "Just give me a few minutes more?" He reached around Maedhros for the bottle, pecking him on the lips and adding more soap to his hands before he gently washing his face and drying it with the towel, next moving to his neck and torso, down to the water line. "Well, as much as I am coming to love this tub, I think it will be much easier for you to do your legs then for me. Perhaps I can finish your rub down after we get out?"

Maedhros chuckled, stirring himself to pull Fingon against his chest and kiss him deeply. "I think I could manage. And I fear what we might awake," he teased, and winked suggestively, and laughed, though he was expressing a real concern and was glad that Fingon stopped where he did. "Also now this means I get to have my hands in your hair," he said, turning Fingon around in his lap and loosing his braids. He had a brush this time, and spent more time than was necessary ensuring it was tangle-free, growing mesmerized by how it spilled and spun and floated in the water, which was up to Fingon's chin since he was not sitting on Maedhros' legs. Though three of his brothers had dark hair, it was nothing like Fingon's: Maglor's was curly, like his own, though similar in color; Caranthir's was so dark it was almost blue, and very straight and fine; Curufin's was yet young hair, but a lighter shade than Fingon's so far. And Fingon's hair was so soft. Maedhros could spend all day in it. But he supposed he had to get to the washing at some point, so, "Close your eyes," he said, pouring soap over the top of Fingon's head and working it into his scalp with his fingertips.

Fingon sighed aloud as warm water poured over his head followed by warmer hands, gentle yet firm, which teased away the last of the stress of the day and left him limp and pliable under his Maedhros' ministrations. There was something vulnerable but extremely erotic about this position, with Fingon now naked and exposed--unbound in every way, and unable to see what his cousin was doing as he was lulled into an increasingly relaxed and contented sake. He shivered lightly at the thought of what else those hands--still so large and skilled compared to his own--could do to him. 

When he was satisfied that Fingon's hair was clean, Maedhros pulled Fingon back against his chest, tipping his cousin's head back against his shoulder so he could lower him slowly to the water, hands steady and gentle as he washed away the suds. His heart raced to see Fingon like this, still and trusting, eyes still closed, water clinging to his dark lashes, neck exposed, lips pink and slightly parted as Maedhros held his head above the water with one hand on the back of his neck. There was nothing in all of Aman Maedhros could have done to keep himself from kissing those lips, so he did, drawing Fingon to him and tucking his arm beneath Fingon's head.

Fingon basked in contentment as Maedhros continued to work with his hair, letting his eyes drift shut as he focused solely on the feelings of his strong, gentle, perfect cousin and the gentle lapping of the warm water as Maedhros continued to move behind him. When he thought the moment could be no more perfect, Maedhros lowered him to the water. His lips parted slightly as he sank further into the heat, body lax against Maedhros and allowing his partner to support him entirely. Then lips were upon his and Fingon's mouth opened wider, tongue probing out to dance with its partner. Fingon let his hands drift in the water, and remained relaxed against his cousin, though his hips began to shift slightly as his need grew, searching for any sort of friction in the water and finding none.

Maedhros chuckled softly as he drew Fingon out of the water, pressing him against his chest and holding him there. "Later, Findekáno," he huffed, noticing his cousin's obvious need and deciding he should probably be the responsible one and put a stop to this. He pulled Fingon against his chest and cradled him there (pinned him there, stilling his attempts to find friction that would only spur him on), listening to Fingon's thrumming heartbeat begin to slow to match his own. He held him, like this, for many minutes, until finally the spell was broken, and Fingon opened his eyes, and stirred. "Should we get out?" Maedhros suggested.

Fingon's breath hitched. "You're terrible, Nelyo. Torturing me like this. Does it please you to see how much I want you, how much I need you, and how long it takes me to get control of my body once you start my spirit racing?" He shook his head slightly, tucking his head against Maedhros' chest and gently kissing the flesh under him. "And yet I cannot regret for a moment anything that occurs in your company. For I would desire you do this to me a hundred times a hundred times rather than be this night without your company."

He sighed, hands twitching lightly where Maedhros had them pinned. "Ah, cousin, I suppose we should get out indeed, lest my hair start drying before we get it pinned down. I'd rather not spend tomorrow looking--and feeling--like Tyelkormo when he rides in after a two-week hunt, hair matted and frayed and unpleasant as anything to deal with. Shall we?"

Maedhros barked out a laugh at that. "Ah, see, you know just how to calm a too-eager heart," he said, "conjuring images of Wild Turko. That will put me right out of the mood--" his eyes flashed, a hint of teasing danger, "as it should you," he warned. Then he kissed Fingon, and stood them both up in the tub, grabbing a towel and slinging it around Fingon's shoulders before taking up another to dry off Fingon's hair. While Fingon was busy getting water out of his ears, he wrung his own hair out and stepped out of the bath before slinging a towel around his waist. His hair did better when it dried before bed, so instead he put it in a quick thick braid for overnight.

Fingon dried off his upper body and slung the towel precariously about his waist before trying to wring water out of his hair and drying off his face. He waited until he was slightly drier- and more capable of running- before replying. "And why should thinking of Turko cool my ardor?" Maedhros looked at him askance and he quickly continued. "I think of Turko and I think of my cousins, which leads me straight back to thinking of you. You're always in my thought, love. You're simply impossible to avoid." He leapt back out of Maedhros’ reach with a laugh, avoiding his grasp but losing his towel in the process.

Maedhros smacked his brow with his hand and groaned. "Findekáno, I think you forgot something!" he said, scooping up the towel and hairbrush and following after Fingon as he darted across the hall and onto bed--the large bed his father and mother shared, when they stayed here, or up to four of he and his brothers, when they were smaller. "Ooh, it's cold in here!" Maedhros said, throwing Fingon's towel back at him and immediately going to the fireplace to get a blaze going. "We shall have to keep close to stay warm," he grinned as he crawled onto bed after Fingon.

Fingon laughed, falling back across the bed and bouncing slightly, his hair unfurling beneath him. "Hmm, I suppose I can do that. As a kindness to you, of course. Because personally I can think of better ways to stay warm." He grinned at Maedhros as he climbed onto the bed. Fingon watched him crawl after him, his body fighting two competing impulses. He sought to rise in passion as Maedhros crawled, naked and body rippling in pleasing ways, before him. His body also fought that impulse--tired after so many denied attempts at passion and wary of being held and gentled once more.

Maedhros' breath hitched at the sight of Fingon spread out before him, his hair billowing out like a network of dark branches. The low light from the fire flickered off his flawless skin, every inch of it visible to Maedhros, every inch of it open and inviting. As he crawled up onto the bed, his own towel caught and slipped off his waist: Maedhros did not care. As he slid up Fingon's body, their sexes touched, and they both responded: Maedhros did not care. He growled low, grinding against Fingon and breathing in the scent of his hair, his arms pinning Fingon down by his shoulders. "Findekáno, I want you so much," he breathed, and it was a lost, bewildered sound. He licked at a spot on Fingon's neck before biting down on it, his hand snaking down between them to stroke Fingon's member. He needed this now, suddenly, all inhibitions gone.

Fingon's mouth dropped opened, moving wordlessly as he arched and writhed below his cousin. "Oh!" He reached out to hold Maedhros to him, fingers digging into his sides when Maedhros whispered words of desire to him. He clenched him with a white knuckled grip and screamed as Maedhros bit him and grasped him. "Nelyo," he whimpered, thrusting up as well as he could. "Oh, Valar, Russ. Need you!" Fingon managed to bring move one hand between them, rubbing it down Maedhros' torso, twisting and rubbing at his nipples, before finally descending to encircle his arousal in a tight grip, hand slicked with their mingled sweat. "Russ, Russ!" Fingon chanted softly, slowly losing the memory of every word but Maedhros' name, and wanting to hear nothing but his answering moans and gasps.

"I--I won't hurt you," Maedhros vowed, moving their bodies together in a steady rhythm. How could he hurt him? Fingon was his world. Maedhros' breathing was uneven, and his hand trembled as it slowly crept its way back up Fingon's body, caressing him all the way. "I need you to suck on my fingers," he whispered, licking down to a new spot on Fingon's neck, where throat and shoulder met, and pressed two fingers at the entrance of his cousin's mouth, wetting them enough that he could circle them round and round Fingon's lips, barely touching.

It took Fingon a minute to understand Maedhros, though before he could put Maedhros’ words in any recognizable order he understood the request of fingers at his mouth. Fingon took them into his mouth, suckling at them and lathing them with his tongue, his hands running up and down Maedhros’ back, clawing at him as they thrust against one another. Maedhros took his hand back, and Fingon’s head lifted as he chased it for a moment, before falling back to the pillow with a sigh.

Then Fingon froze as he felt fingers at his entrance, and he wanted nothing more than to thrust onto them, to take anything and everything Maedhros would give him, to let his cousin give him this. Instead he shook his head frantically, one hand dropping to grasp Maedhros wrist before he could move his hand further and the other pushing gently at his shoulder. “Stop!” he gasped. The word was torn from Fingon’s mouth and he was horrified as he said it--hating that his words might end this moment, hating that stopping him would likely hurt Maedhros, but hating even more what continuing would do to him. Maedhros froze, body tensing until it was as steel, and stared at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Previously:

_Then Fingon froze as he felt fingers at his entrance, and he wanted nothing more than to thrust onto them, to take anything and everything Maedhros would give him, to let his cousin give him this. Instead he shook his head frantically, one hand dropping to grasp Maedhros wrist before he could move his hand further and the other pushing gently at his shoulder. “Stop!” he gasped. The word was torn from Fingon’s mouth and he was horrified as he said it- hating that his words might end this moment, hating that stopping him would likely hurt Maedhros, but hating even more what continuing would do to him. Maedhros froze, body tensing until it was as steel, and stared at him._  

* * *

 

“I would have you--” Fingon shook his head and groaned, speaking quickly. “I would have you in every way possible, would let you have me whenever and however you desired until our bodies lay sore and sated and we were unable to move and stayed gasping and panting in one another’s arms, lost to the world and seeing and hearing naught but each another. I would give myself to you in a heartbeat, Russ, if we could. If you were younger or I older--but then we wouldn’t be us.” A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at Maedhros’ stricken face. “We wouldn’t be us, Russ, and I couldn’t bear that. Please, please, please don’t stop, but we have to do something else Russ, because we promised we would wait, would give this to one another the night we bond--”

Maedhros held perfectly still, breath coming in harsh pants through his nose as he fought to get himself under control. "I--" he began, as waves of guilt crashed over him. He wanted to move away, to deny himself what he did not deserve, but Fingon, loving, lovely Findekáno, his treasure, his everything, would not want that, and Maedhros had enough soundness of mind to realize that. But he couldn't move, not yet. His erection softened, his own body as appalled at what he meant to do. "Sorry," he gasped out, eyes wet, and realized only then that he had been holding his breath for some time. And then the flood came, and with it a rain of kisses and tears: "Oh, my Findekáno, blessed, precious Findekáno--forgive me, I--I love you, I am sorry. I thought I--" everything was shaking, and his face was on fire with shame, but he did not deserve to hide. "I don't know what I was thinking. Apologies. Forgive me." The words were distasteful in his mouth because Fingon had already forgiven him, would already trust him if he asked him to, and he was...

Maedhros took a deep, if shaky, breath. "I am unworthy of the beautiful future you envision for us," he said, and tears dripped down his nose and fell against Fingon's cheek, "but please do not lose sight of it, all the same." He buried his face against Fingon's neck again. "Please, Findekáno, I beg of you. Forgive me. I love you."

Fingon wrapped his arms around Maedhros, clutching him to him as tightly as he could. He brought one hand up to Maedhros hair, gently rubbing at his scalp in a softer mimicry of the massage that had so relaxed him earlier that evening. He stared at the ceiling as tears slowly tracked down his own face, horrified at Maedhros’ verbal self-flagellation.

Finally, he pushed Maedhros up slightly, and Maedhros moved at the slightest prompting, letting himself be guided. Fingon slid lower underneath him so that his face was level with Maedhros and they ware staring one another in the eyes. "Oh, Russ." Fingon raised a hand to brush the tears from Maedhros' face. He tried on a smile, and found that staring at Maedhros he could manage one. "Of course I forgive you--you did nothing wrong. And you would never hurt me." He pressed their lips together gently--a blessing, a sign of forgiveness (but there wasn't really anything to forgive), a reminder that he was not alone. He pushed at Maedhros' slightly and they rolled until Fingon lay above him."You wouldn't. I know that. I know you." Fingon sighed, tucking back strands of his cousin's hair that had escaped their braid and glancing away. "I didn't realize how much I affected you Russ. You are always so in control of yourself, your environment. I never thought I could truly make you forget yourself."

Maedhros gave a full-body shudder, and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the last of the tears out and away from his eyes. "I--" he laughed to keep from crying again. "Yes, you have a powerful effect on me." He had never thought of it before, but Fingon was right. He wasn't as guarded as he ought to be around Fingon: but perhaps that was the key to their entire relationship. He was guarded around everyone else. He was in control of himself in every situation. A thrill of fear stirred in him as he realized how easily Fingon made him lose control. And maybe later that would be something to look forward to, but until Fingon was of age--until they were one under the laws of their people...

Now he felt safer, with Fingon on top of him, with Fingon in control. Fingon he could trust, where he could not even trust himself. He bit his lip to keep from apologizing again, for Fingon had forgiven him twice over. "Let me--" it was an effort to speak, "let me make this up to you," he begged. He could still feel Fingon hard against his hip. "Let me please you, Finno. Let me--I will not--" He could not even bring himself to say how he had failed, nearly betrayed them both. "I love you."

Fingon let out a slight laugh, and as it moved him a tear dropped from his cheek to land on Maedhros. He smiled as he brushed it aside and met Maedhros' gaze squarely. "I am yours. For whatever it is worth, whatever I am worth, I am already yours and so shall remain for as long as I exist in body or spirit." He touched their foreheads together. He had largely forgotten that he was still hard, pressed against Maedhros' warm skin until he brought it up. He spoke, and watched Maedhros' eyes dilate slightly as he continued. "I said before that I would have you in every way possible and let you have me whenever and however you desired. So whatever you wish right now is already yours." He pulled back, running his hands down his arms until they grasped Maedhros' hands loosely. "But if you wish nothing more than to lie together, I would be happy just to stay in your arms through the night and to feel your heartbeat and hear you breathe. All I beg of you, and I do beg this, is that you not send me away."

Maedhros shook his head, surging upward for a kiss. "Never," he blurted out, eager to please Fingon after his last debacle. "I would never be parted from you, Findekáno, I swear it. If I ever said so it would not be according to my own heart." He kissed Fingon again, growing bold enough to hook an arm behind Fingon's neck. His hand tightened ever so slightly around Fingon's sex, and he stroked him lovingly. "I wish for your pleasure, Fingon. I need it, desperately." He rolled, so that they lay side by side, facing one another on the bed, Fingon's head resting on Maedhros' arm. "I love you," he gasped, fingers twisting expertly (a proud term: he knew what he liked, anyway, and he was learning the sounds of pleasure Fingon made, and used these to guide him) as he focused on his task. "I need to make you happy. Tell me what I can do," he pleaded, his voice as urgent as Fingon's gasps.

"Please," Fingon breathed. "Touch me, kiss me, want me, need me." He paused for a moment as his body remembered what they had been doing and pleasure began to course through him again, making his spine tingle. "Trust me," he murmured against Maedhros. "I love you so much; there is nothing dearer to me in this world than you. Please believe that." He fell quiet and though he tried to keep his eyes on Maedhros they began to fall shut as he lost himself to the gentle pleasure Maedhros gave him; soft and sweet compared to what they had shared before.

"I know, I do, I love you, too," Maedhros panted, pressing their bodies together as if to make them one. "I need you, I trust you. You are my everything, Findekáno," he breathed, and paused to kiss his lips, to lick a path down his throat to add another dark bruise there. "I do not know what I would do without you, my love, melamin." He kissed Fingon's shoulder, biting it gently, and tangled his fingers in Fingon's hair to tug it gently. He nearly overwhelmed Fingon's sex with the length of his hand, and he plied him nearer and nearer to climax. "I want to taste you, Finno--may I?" He wanted to be everywhere on Fingon's body at once, and cursed himself that he wasn't twice as tall as he was. He tilted Fingon over onto his back gently and reclaimed the arm under his head before lowering himself to Fingon's sex, eyes up, mouth open, still begging for permission.

"Oh, please. Please." Fingon panted, eyes fluttering open to watch avidly as Maedhros moved around him, seemly unable to decide where he wanted to be, what he wanted to touch. And Fingon could not entirely understand that-- he knew how he looked, and while there was nothing wrong with appearance, he was well aware that he did not hold a candle to Nelyafinwë Maitimo. Against him he was a piece of jewelry forged by one of the new apprentices in a smithy next to a recent piece created by his Uncle Fëanáro. Still, Maedhros seemed pleased with his form, and he was glad to see Maedhros pleased. He let Maedhros move him, and gave himself over to his worshipful care, begging at Maedhros' request as he waited for his lover to envelop him. Maedhros met is gaze, and held it as permission was granted and he moved down.

Maedhros took Fingon in his mouth, reverently, lovingly, humming and licking and loving the taste of his Fingon, almost enough to reawaken desires in himself. He used one hand to complete the worship his mouth could not do alone, and with the other he found other places that caused Fingon to writhe and his hips to shake wantonly: the back of his neck was sensitive, as were his ears, and his nipples, which Maedhros pinched between his fingers until Fingon was keening loudly. He popped off long enough to say "I want to taste you, Fin, come for me, love," before he returned his mouth to his task, and it seemed like half a second later Fingon was undone.

Fingon screamed as he came, white light filling his vision. One hand clenched the bedding, twisting it tightly in his grasp while the other curved around Maedhros head, gently tangling in his hair. He panted as he came down, taking great gulps of air and trying to still his racing heart. Maedhros held him in his mouth, gently cleaning him with his tongue, until the overstimulation grew too great and Fingon gently guided his head back. "Russ," he croaked, voice hoarse. "C'mere. Please." 

The explosion of taste on his tongue was greater than he could have imagined, and Maedhros swallowed every drop, and Fingon's cries of pleasure were almost loud enough to drown out his fears from before. Obeying the gentle tug on his hair and Fingon's pleas, Maedhros wiped at the corner of his mouth as he crawled his way back up Fingon's body to settle over him, feeling as sated and comfortable and loved and exhausted as if he, too, had spent himself twice this night. "I love you," he whispered, kissing Fingon on the cheek and sliding his arm again beneath Fingon's head. "I am here, Finno. As I shall always be." He tugged corner of the blanket up over them both as they lay still in each others arms.

Fingon turned and leaned against him as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat lowered to match Maedhros’. Finally, he turned his head to nose at Maedhros’ neck playfully. “Ah… not that I wish to ask for anything more, but we cannot fall asleep yet, or at least I can’t. Will you still help me untangle and plait my hair, or shall I get up for a few minutes and do something with it?”

Maedhros huffed into Fingon's neck. "I would be offended if you did not allow me to do it," he said, and sat up, tugging his cousin upright and proceeding to bundle him tightly in the blanket and pull him against him. Gently he freed Fingon's thick, unruly hair (how could hair so straight be so unruly? he always wondered), and pulled it back in a fist so he could brush it out. "I will draw it tight so it will last a few days," he explained, "like I do with the little ones--like I used to do with yours. But let me know if I hurt you." He chuckled. "I can trust to my brothers to scream if I am hurting them. But you are far too brave."

"I'm sure I can handle you tugging on my hair a bit," Fingon replied, turning to look at Maedhros briefly. "Goodness knows I have no patience to deal with it myself and oft end up yanking a brush through it as quickly as possible. I truly envy Irisse her hair--is that terrible of me?" He leaned back slightly as Maedhros carefully pulled a brush through his hair, far more gently than Fingon would have done himself. "And please do--I'd prefer it last a while. Or at least until the next time we decide to take a bath." He reached back to brush a hand lightly against the outside of Maedhros' thigh. "Thank you for helping me. You truly are incredible, and you never give yourself due credit. Thank you for dinner and hot chocolate and starlight; for bathing me and trusting me with your body and coming together with me twice now--or one and a half times, I suppose. We'll have to even that out at some point, and I do owe you the last half of a massage."

Maedhros had to give pause at this. "You are too kind," he told Fingon, and he was, "but I thank you." He let go the brush and the hair and wrapped his arms around Fingon from behind to embrace him, and rested his chin on Fingon's shoulder. "I want to thank you," he said finally, once he had collected himself, "for what you did. For--stopping me. I--" he sighed "well you know I am sorry. Know that I do not and will never apologize for how much I love you, though my love is out of measure and drives me from my right mind. Do you know what power you hold over me, Findekáno?" he wondered aloud, and kissed Fingon's neck. "And though I abhor myself for my actions, I can only love you and trust you the more for yours. Thank _you_ , melamin." And with a last squeeze, he returned his attention to Fingon's hair, dividing it into eight down the length of his head, front to back, and proceeding to braid eight tight, thick braids against his scalp.

"You're my hero," Fingon whispered. "My best friend." He reached back to wrap an arm around Maedhros' neck. "My lover." He ran his fingers up underneath Maedhros' hair. "My betrothed. My prince. My light." Fingon sighed. "If it came to that, I would always stop you- because that is what we promised. And you will always listen, because you hurt yourself far more easily then you ever would me." He waited for Maedhros to finish a braid, then leaned back against his shoulder. "Please don't be sorry. I regret nothing that happened between us, and we stopped before doing anything we would regret having happen so soon. Valar, Russ. You speak of what power I have over you, but do you not know that to me you have always been everything? My first memory is of looking up and seeing you smiling at me and reaching out to me. The first thing I ever remember doing is reaching back; of clinging to you and wanting to never let go. And that hasn't changed." He turned to brush his lips against his neck, just under his chin. "I could never abhor you or your actions towards me, Russ. Please don't feel so about yourself. Or if you must blame someone then blame me. But could we not see this rather as a good thing?" Fingon's voice dropped to a whisper and his lips barely brushed across Maedhros' skin with the slightest contact as he continued. "You have no idea how much it means to me to give you such pleasure, to let you escape from worries and concerns and obligations for a time and just feel. And if you would give me the honor of entrusting me with your body as you let yourself go, know that I will never let us do something you would regret, and I will enjoy anything you are willing to do with me, anything you will allow me to do to you."

Maedhros stole (not stole, for Fingon gave it freely) another kiss before starting a new braid, blinking tears from his eyes as he remembered young Fingon. "My little shadow, they used to call you. For where I went you were sure to follow. Do you remember when you followed me into the forge once, and you were so scared that the oven was a hungry monster trying to eat me? And you faced it down as if to defend me from it with your tiny body." Maedhros chuckled. "But never forget, Finno, that for every step you took after me I ever glanced back to make sure you were there, without which I had no courage to go forward. So yes, I trust you, wholly and completely, with myself, enough even to let go of myself. You may count on that." He kissed Fingon's hair where he tied off the plait with a gold thread, and braided in silence for some time.

Fingon felt heat rise in his cheeks and almost wished Maedhros were done with his hair so that he could hide his face against Maedhros' neck or chest. After listening to their breathing for a time he broken the silence softly. "I remember," he answered. "And I remember you interceding between me and true danger as often as I interposed myself between you and what monsters my imagination invented. Even the last time we went hiking as I lost my footing; I never in that instant doubted that you would grab me, that you would save me." He brushed off the memory and wished there was a mirror before them so that he could see what Maedhros was doing. "How is it looking? And don't worry _too_ much-- I'd love them to last for a bit, but I'm not in the slightest opposed to making use of that bath again while we're here. It's glorious."

"Ah, then you think this is a selfless act, a favor to you?" Maedhros chuckled. "It is entirely the opposite! If I thought I could get you to stay still for long enough, Findekáno, I would do this every day for twice as long. As my father works metal and glass and my mother works stone I would work your hair into creations themselves worthy of song. They would be labors of love that artists would commit to paper and historians would commit to history." Now he laughed, ashamed of his own hyperbole. "Or something like that. Now hold still and let me finish, and if your unruly locks manage to break free, or if you wish to wash your hair again, or if you simply want me to take it out and do it again, you need only ask--or wait for my resolve to break and I will ask." Once the braids were finished, he sighed. "There. I will braid them together in the morning, but it would be rather uncomfortable to sleep on like that, so they will stay for now. He slid off the bed to rummage through his things for clean trousers, soft and thin for sleeping in. "I am going to drain the bath and clean up our dishes. I will be back soon. Wait up for me?"

"Are you sure I can't lend a hand somehow?" Fingon turned to watch Maedhros search for his clothing, pulling the covers around him now that Maedhros--veritable furnace that he was--was no longer beside him. He brought one hand up to gently run over the braids as his eyes followed Maedhros around the room; he was, as always, amazed at the straightness of the lines and the tightness and skill of the plaiting.

"Well, you could keep me company," Maedhros said with a grin, trusting, as ever, that Fingon would follow. He darted across the hall to the washroom, drained the bath, hung up their towels, and collected their dishes. Fingon followed him, wrapped in the large quilt blanket that dragged behind him, looking as if he was barely out of his 20s again.

Maedhros laughed, and had to stop to kiss Fingon as he passed him to go into the kitchen. "Ah, you look so small like that, Finno," he teased, "which makes my lust more wicked than it already is." He made his way to the kitchen, collecting dishes as he went. 

Fingon smiled at the sentiment, glad the Maedhros was already speaking of some desire for him. "Not at all--else there must be something even worse with me for having longed for you for as long as I have." He didn't elaborate further. Fingon danced quickly and light-footedly across the stone areas of the floor, then buried his feet in the warm carpet by the sofa as they passed through on their way to the kitchen. "Dessert was wonderful," he added with a yawn as Maedhros rinsed out their dishes--fortunately there was little work to be done at this point. When the last pieces were dried and placed back in the cupboards he approached Maedhros from behind, wrapping his arms, blanket and all, around him and catching him in a warm embrace. "Mmm." He nuzzled against Maedhros, breathing in the clean, soapy scent from their back, and a smell that was purely his cousin. "You're so warm, Russ. How do you stand it? Mind you, it's very nice for me."

Maedhros smiled, drying his hands before grasping his cousins'. "My thoughts of you keep me warm, I suppose." Then he laughed at himself. "All right. I am out of romantic words for the evening, apparently." He turned around and kissed Fingon's nose. "Now, are you ready for bed? A glass of milk? A glass of water? If not--" with that, he scooped Fingon into his arms, ready to carry him to bed to save his feet from the cold.

Fingon shook his head and grinned as Maedhros swept him off his feet and carried him as though he weighed nothing. Surrounded by Maedhros' arms and body and the soft quilt Fingon felt perfectly content, though soon they had entered the bedroom and Maedhros had gently lowered him to the bed, carefully rearranging the quilt to cover the entire bed and sliding Fingon beneath the sheets. He again found his eyes drawn to Maedhros as he lit a blue crystal that let out a soft, dim glow and blew out the candles in the room.

After putting a few more logs on the fire and shutting the door most of the way, Maedhros slid into bed alongside his cousin, trembling at the contact of skin and kissing Fingon's brow and cheeks. He shivered, now, too, and, "Mm, I am glad to have you here, Finno. It's a cold night," he said, gathering the bundle that was Fingon to him and sliding his arm under Fingon's head. Their legs, as if on instinct, tangled together. They'd slept beside each other before, but never like this, and something thrilled in Maedhros' breast at how close they were like this. "Wait," he said, needing more, and pulled back only to squirm out of his trousers, so they were naked together. "There." He held still to let Fingon get comfortable, to fill in around him.

Fingon moved slightly so that his head was at a comfortable angle on Maedhros' arm, and let his feet curl against his calves. He left out a soft sigh, basking in this new position of closeness, comfort and safety. "Mara lomë." He pressed his lips to Maedhros' and smiled against them. "I will see you tomorrow. First thing."

Maedhros sighed contentedly, breaking the kiss and tucking his chin over the top of Fingon's head so he could press their bodies still closer together. "Won't that be a wonderful thing?" he mused aloud. "What would you like to do tomorrow?" he asked after a moment, but Fingon's steady breathing told him that his cousin was already asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Previously:

_Maedhros sighed contentedly, breaking the kiss and tucking his chin over the top of Fingon's head so he could press their bodies still closer together. "Won't that be a wonderful thing?" he mused aloud. "What would you like to do tomorrow?" he asked after a moment, but Fingon's steady breathing told him that his cousin was already asleep._

* * *

 

Fingon woke slowly, wondering if he were dreaming still. The sun shone through the trees and came through the window slightly shaded; he had slept later than usual. They both had, he realized, looking at the Elda tangled with him. Patches of light covered Maedhros and lit his braided hair so that the red in it shone vibrantly. His brow was completely smooth and he looked as at peace as Fingon had ever seen him. He shifted slightly and tucked himself even closer to his betrothed, breathing in his scent and tucking his arms securely around his cousin's larger frame. Minutes later Maedhros began to stir as the sun rose high and the light moved onto his face. "Mara tuilë, my Russ," Fingon purred contentedly as his eyes blinked open.

"Good morning, melamin," Maedhros murmured, pulling Fingon to him, eyes still closed, and kissing him. "What time is it?" He was too comfortable to wake just yet. He focused on his leg hitched up over Fingon's hip: this was most comfortable; this was bliss.

"Don't know, don't care," Fingon mumbled. He slid a hand down Maedhros' back and trailed it down the leg that was now hitched over him, bringing it back to rest lightly on Maedhros' hip. "I haven't felt so well rested in ages; part of me just wants to stay here, and yet I know I'll have so much energy later today--we simply must go hiking or riding or hunting! Whatever you'd like."

"Yes," Maedhros agreed, finally opening his eyes to Fingon dappled in sunshine. "Riding. But first, I just want to lie in bed with you. Then I want to make you breakfast--whatever you want." He kissed Fingon again, deeper, pulling him to him.

"Oh!" A breathy gasp escaped Fingon as he was pulled closer against his cousin. He smiled and rolled them slightly so that Maedhros lay on his back with Fingon draped over him, allowing Meadhros to move and shake out the arm Fingon had been resting on--it must have fallen asleep during the night with Fingon atop it, though Maedhros said nothing of it upon awakening. "Yes." He spoke quietly, resting his chin on Maedhros' chest and looking up at him. "That sounds wonderful. Everything you just said." He leaned forward to kiss Maedhros gently.

Maedhros worked his arm out before wrapping it around Fingon. "Mm, I love the feel of your body against mine," he said. "I love everything about you." He coughed nervously. "Thank you for last night. For--for stopping me. And for continuing, also. I love you." He kissed his cousin's hair. "What should I make you for breakfast?"

"Nelyo…" Fingon sighed. "Please don't do this to yourself. And thank you, though I feel that was somewhat unfair--I would have stopped, Russ, and been content just to hold you for the evening. I don't want you to feel… obligated… in any way." He shook off that train of thought and brought himself back to the present, body fitted against Maedhros. "I love the feel of your body around mine as well; I feel so safe, so happy, so perfectly in love." He squeezed his arms around Maedhros. "Hmm, something light for breakfast, perhaps? Berries and fruit, and we could fry a bit of meat if you have some? Though I'm always happy with your cooking, whatever it includes." He nudged Maedhros with the tip of his chin to get his attention. "Also, I think I still owe you the end of a massage, though whether that happens sooner or sometime after we get back this evening is entirely up to you."

Maedhros hummed, slightly aroused already. "Ah, such touches from you would be most welcome," he said, but did not let go of Fingon. "Now?" He asked shyly. "Or breakfast first?"

"I would never _not_ choose to be with you, to touch you, but I'm afraid you will have to decide officially, and tell me to do one thing or another, or I shall not find the strength to move from your arms." Fingon hid a smile against his chest feeling Maedhros' growing interest. That he was, at least physically, willing to be with him already after the disaster of the night before was highly comforting.

"Ah, Fingon, you yet prove I do not deserve you. I will grow spoiled." Maedhros licked across Fingon's lips. "But very well. You have chosen breakfast: I will choose what we do before." He settled back, stretching his arms above his head. "So how do you want me?" He grinned wickedly.

Fingon _knew_ that Maedhros felt him twitch at that, and he was certain his cousin was feeling overly pleased with himself at the moment. He trailed a hand down Maedhros' side as he sat up. "Well, I suppose far too much time has passed to keep going from before. Perhaps if you roll over I can start again?" He brushed a quick kiss to Maedhros' cheek as he hopped off the bed. "I'll be right back."

Maedhros flopped over delightedly, and watched Fingon scamper off, still naked, and cursing at the cold floor. Eyes darting to the door, Maedhros supposed he had enough time, and he quickly got up to stoke the fire, tossing a few more logs haphazardly into the fireplace before he dove back into bed. Fingon returned before he made it entirely, though, and he eyed his cousin sheepishly.

"Really?" Fingon saw no point in saying anything further, and clambered onto the bed after Maedhros. He set a bottle on the bedside table, and straddled Maedhros, running his hands up his arms to encircle his wrists gently. "Can you not stay still for a moment, my love? And to think you chide Ambarussa for the same thing." He tugged at Maedhros, carefully guiding him to turn over, and he finished throwing off the blankets that were tangled on the lower half of the bed. Maedhros was a glorious vision, sprawled across the bed in the early morning light and with the light of the flames dancing across his skin. Fingon leaned down and pushed his braid to the side, kissing his neck gently. "You are a vision. I find I do not even know where or how to begin, for I could stare at you for an age an be content in that before daring to touch, to caress." Despite his words he reached over for the bottle, pouring lotion into his palm and rubbing it between his hands until it was warm before lowering his hands to Maedhros' shoulders and kneading them.

Maedhros hissed at first contact, but soon relaxed into Fingon's touch. "I told you, you spoil me," he said, hiding his face in the pillow and fisting his hands beneath his head, beneath the pillow. "And flatter me. I--ooh, ow, right--mm, there--please--" he gasped suddenly, back arching as Fingon found a tight knot between his shoulder blades.

Fingon leaned forward, using his weight to press hard against the knotted areas. "Russ, how is it that you're _still_ so tight? I really do worry about you at times like this." He finished the shoulders and moved down each arm, caressing his hands before moving back to dig into his lower back. He kissed each area as he finished, and slid slightly further down Maedhros body before tackling the large, smooth plane from broad shoulders to tapered waist. "Let me know if I'm hitting the right spot?" He could tell from the tenseness of the muscles, but he delighted in the sounds Maedhros was making and would gladly hear more of them if his lover were willing.

"I--ahh--ai," Maedhros whined, as forcing his body to relax became a definite chore. "Don't stop," he begged, beginning to fray around the edges, still too sleep-muddled to focus properly. "You are--you are hitting all the right spots, I assure you," he panted. His arousal was nearly painful at this point, but neither did he want the touches on his back and shoulders to stop.

Slowly, Fingon moved down his back, hands finally gently skating along the small of it, caressing more than pressing on the area. He dipped down to leave a lingering kiss, then scooted down further to work his way down Maedhros' legs. For a moment he found himself wishing that he were larger, stronger. That his hands could come closer to wrapping around Maedhros' legs as he worked the muscles there, which were nearly as tense as his shoulders had been. "Nelyo, will you let me do this for you sometimes? You're so tense--I don't know how you've been able to move. And I cannot imagine what you felt like before taking  a hot soak." He slipped off the bottom of the bed to focus on Maedhros' feet, thumbs digging into the arches for long moments before he pressed a gentle kiss to each, and moved back up the bed.

"Ah, Findekáno," Maedhros sighed, weak with bliss. "You know I do not make a habit of begging. But I could beg for this." He took a careful breath as Fingon crawled up the length of his body, settling over him again. "Mm." His eyes slid closed. "You do not need breakfast just yet, right?" he teased, wanting nothing more than to lie here all day--or at least a good portion of it.

"Not quite yet." Fingon stroked his hands up Maedhros' back lazily. "Turn?" he requested, gently rolling Maedhros onto his back so that he could finish with the front of his shoulders and neck.

Maedhros began to oblige before he remembered his own arousal, and he pulled at a corner of the blanket to cover himself with as he turned, flushing as he did because of _course_ Fingon _knew_. "I--sorry," he said. "I just--you know. Or maybe you don't know what you do to me." He shrugged. "I really would like the rest of that massage," he said, in case it looked like he might want something else (which he did, only--it was so complicated!).

Fingon met his eyes with a wry grin. "It wasn't exactly my intention, in either case, but I'd be something of a hypocrite to judge for that." Maedhros' gaze immediately dropped lower on his body, then jerked back up to meet Fingon's eyes as his flush deepened. "Let me just finish trying to get you a bit less tense," Fingon murmured. "Then if you want something else-and only if you do, perhaps you would let me continue on to a different method of stress removal, practically guaranteed to get you boneless." He reached over Maedhros to continue working on his neck and down his chest, carefully ensuring that they made no intimate contact until--unless--he had Maedhros' agreement.

Maedhros nodded, suddenly struck dumb and biting his lip. "Oh--only if you want it, too," he managed, ashamed of his hesitation but weak with need. He groaned again as Fingon's touch soothed him. His hands flailed, finally one settled on Fingon's hip, as if this would ground him against the oncoming storm.

Fingon hummed in agreement, moving lower on Maedhros thighs as he finished working down his sides and abdomen, at last laying a final kiss just below his navel and running his thumbs over his hipbones before sliding back up. He wrapped an arm around the back of Maedhros’ head and caught his mouth in a heated kiss. “May I?” He tugged gently at the corner of the sheet that Maedhros had tucked over himself.

He nodded again, and "Please," he said. His hands were shaking, but he pulled Fingon down for another hungry kiss, and his hand wandered down to find Fingon's sex. Already he was learning the shape of his cousin's body and knew him blind.

“Ah! Just a moment--I want to try something. Close your eyes?” Fingon made the request playfully, and waited until he had done so, giving him a quick peck for being so cooperative and trusting. He reached again for the bottle of lotion, pouring some into his hand and warming it. He slotted their bodies together so that they could grind against one another for a minute, wrapping his free hand around Maedhros’ neck and letting the heat and friction build between them. When he heard Maedhros gasping from that alone he slid his hand between them and wrapped it around them both.

Maedhros sucked in a breath like he had never tasted air before, and thrust up into Fingon's hands, eyes still tightly shut, crying out incoherently. He shot up on one elbow, grabbed the back of Fingon's neck and crashed their lips together, sucking desperately. "Ai, ahh, Finno, you--ahh--" he tried to say, but in this position he had not enough hands to help them along. He mouthed along Fingon's jaw, kissing and nibbling gently until he found Fingon's ear, and licked a long stripe up to the pointed tip before sucking a bruise at the sensitive spot behind his ear, never letting go, never opening his eyes as Fingon stroked them together.

Fingon let out gasping breaths as his heart pounded and moved over Maedhros, thrusting against him and into his palm. He shook his head, trying to gain control over himself, and his braids trailed across Maedhros' face as he moved. "Russ, Russ--you can open your eyes now." Immediately afterwards Fingon debated the wisdom of saying that. Maedhros' eyes were almost entirely black, his pupils dilated, as he met his gaze. Fingon cried out, and let go of them for a moment, grabbing Maedhros' hand and threading their fingers together before dragging them down to wrap around their arousals together. Maedhros' palm was callused from working in the forge with his father and hunting in the wilds, and Fingon trembled as it moved over him.

Fingon was beautiful, and for a moment it overwhelmed his sight, and Maedhros almost wished for darkness again, just to feel--but then Fingon had threaded their fingers together and they were stroking each other in tandem--knowing what they already liked and learning what the other loved--and Fingon had fallen forward on top of him and Maedhros could not breathe so he stole his cousin's breath, surging up to deepen the kiss until his neck ached and "I love you," Maedhros managed to force out between the haze of lust and then everything went white.

Fingon felt himself rising to the crest at Maedhros’ words. Then his lover arched off the bed with Fingon’s full weight atop him, and Fingon shuddered at the strength so carelessly displayed. Someday, when his lover wasn’t so worried about his self-control and propriety and custom, someday he would beg Maedhros until he was willing to take control and simply _use_ him. But for now he kept his eyes on Maedhros face, letting his expression and their still moving hands push him over the edge. He braced himself with his free arm and blinked rapidly as he stilled their hands and gasped for breath, shaking his head to dislodge the sweat from his brow. He was determined to keep his eyes open, wanting to watch Maedhros come down from his high.

Maedhros tossed his head back to gasp for air as Fingon fell atop him. He blinked, blissfully disoriented, and when he came back to himself he had only one need in all of Aman and that was his Fingon. He wound his arms around Fingon's back and pulled him against him firmly, though his kiss was more gentle. They were still for some time, their hearts slowing to the same beat. "Ah, Finno," Maedhros sighed, and kissed Fingon's hair. "Thank--oh, wait," he said suddenly, but he was entirely too contented to start up as he remembered.

“’s wrong?”  Fingon’s speech slurred slightly in contentment and drowsiness. Maedhros’ did not try to move him, so he remained unworried as he pushed himself up slightly to watch Maedhros’ response.

"Oh. I have something for you. I meant to give it to you before--" he laughed, and grew warmer, but pulled Fingon against him. "When we get up. I trust you won't let me forget."

Fingon laughed and nuzzled against him. "You're spoiling me again, Nelyo!" He tilted his head and kissed Maedhros's jaw. "You always do." He let out a soft breath, hands reaching up to frame his lover's face and thumbs brushing his cheeks. "I'll remind you--though you've already given me so much! I only hope I can give you a small portion of the love and happiness I find whenever I am with you."

"Well, the gift is a bit for me, too," Maedhros admitted cryptically, and shrugged. "Ooh. Oh. Wow." He stretched his back experimentally, wriggling his feet (which hung off the bed). "I don't know when I last felt this good. Findekáno, I might need you to massage me every night!"

"Mmm. I could get used to this---to that," he corrected. He closed his eyes and lay flat against Maedhros as Maedhros relaxed beneath him following his stretch. "Just say the word and I will come. Even if it's just for the actual massage part--I told you you're far too tight. I'm surprised Maglor, at least, isn't forcing you to take breaks every once in a while."

Maedhros chuckled. "Macalaure is a creative genius, with all the, ah, absentmindedness that goes along with it. He does help--when he remembers. Anyway I like to do it. I'll like it even more if it means regular attention from you." Kissing Fingon's brow again, he rolled them to one side and got up on one elbow, reaching over Fingon for his coat which hung on the post. "Here," he said, producing a small box. It was blue, tied with gold thread, and in Maedhros' neat, flowing script, was written Fingon's full name. "I had thought to wait until we were going home, but--well, it would be silly to wait longer I think, after--anyway, it is for you."

Fingon smiled at him and sat up slightly. Maedhros rose as well, and Fingon curled into his cousin's frame, holding the box delicately. "May I?" He ran his fingers over his name, and pulled the thread. It came off easily, and he laid it beside them. He glanced at Maedhros, who was watching him intently as he opened the lid of the box. Inside was a smaller, wooden box. The red cherry wood was inlaid with patterns of gold around the edges, that reminded Fingon of his plaited hair, and he smiled, suddenly nervous as he moved to open the smaller box.

Maedhros grinned. "The box is not the gift," he tutted quietly, arms circling around Fingon as he tilted up the lid, revealing the small silver betrothal ring Maedhros had spent many hours forging.

Fingon's breath hitched. "Russandol." He stared down at the ring--it was deceptively simple at first glance, and elegant. A creation worthy of a son of Curufinwe Feanaro. "It's beautiful. Amazing. Craftmanship worthy of a prince of the Noldor--in this you are truly your father's son." He leaned across to catch Maedhros' mouth briefly, and ran his finger across the edge of the ring. "Oh, Russ, it's perfect." He took his hand back, regretfully, and turned to face Maedhros fully as he tensed at a new thought. "Russ-- I don't-- I haven't--" he waved his hands around the room apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Russ. I just--I _have_ started on it, but yours is at home. It isn't ready. It isn't good enough; isn't _worthy_ of you. I'm slow." He shook his head regretfully and looked down at the sheets, the beauty of the moment lost as the depth of his inadequacy hit him. "I'm so sorry. I've ruined things."

Maedhros' brow furrowed. "I had not meant to upset you, Finno," he said, closing Fingon's hands, box and all, in his. "You know you could give me a hammered out bottle cap and I would treasure it until the End of this Age. And I will be patient." His eyes flashed wickedly playful, and pressed their brows together. "That _you_ wear _my_ ring is all I care about." He stopped. "Well, perhaps on a chain, so your father won't inquire, and--and only if you--if you accept it? You don't have to. We could wait."

"Of course I accept it! Could you ever imagine otherwise? I am yours, Russ, for as long as you will have me, and even if you were to leave me, I would quietly remain yours in heart and spirit. No, if you'll forgive my inadequacy this moment is perfect." He laid the box in Maedhros' palm. "A chain will work for me--perhaps for you as well once we get back. But while we are here, will you put it on me?" He held out his hand, glancing up at Maedhros through his lashes.

Maedhros' breath caught as Fingon looked up at him, and he took the box with shaking hands. "I-I would love to," he managed. He nearly dropped the ring as he took it from its padding, and Fingon's hand, as he held out his finger, was shaking, too. Maedhros first kissed his knuckle and then slipped the ring on the third finger of his left hand. The ring fit perfectly (how could it not? He had spent enough time knowing the size and shape of Fingon down to the last detail). He sighed as he drew back to look at Fingon wearing the ring, face aglow and beaming.

Fingon realized that he was holding his breath, and as Maedhros' looked at him he let out a choked sob. He raised his hand to his kiss the ring gently, and gave his lover--his betrothed--a watery smile. "I am undone, Russandol. Just when I think I could have nothing more, you raise me to new heights. My love, my betrothed, my future husband--there are not words in Quenya or Telerin or any tongue of Arda to express how greatly I love thee." Fingon threaded his arms under Maedhros' arms and around his waist, and pulled himself flush against him. He tucked himself close and listened to the steady rhythm of Maedhros' heart. "Thank you." He eventually pulled back one hand to grasp Maedhros' left hand in his own, and brought it to his mouth, kissing his knuckle. "I promise you will have something to wear there shortly after we get back."

Maedhros shook his head, arms around Fingon tightly, and kissed his hair. "For now I am more than content that you wear my ring: I told you it is more gift for me. You honor me, and you make me the very happiest I have ever been, by accepting this gift--and by accepting me." He sighed, resting his chin on Fingon's head, and sliding his legs up to wrap around Fingon as well. Where their skin touched he felt he could feel Fingon's love for him, and it humbled the elder elf. "I love you, Findekáno," he said solemnly. "When I wear your ring we will exchange the proper vows but--" and here he chuckled, and peered down at Fingon's limbs wrapped tightly around him: "for now, I am content to wear you," he said with a wink.


End file.
